


like a tower ready to fall

by nasa



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27211630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nasa/pseuds/nasa
Summary: Nicky and Nile have nightmares, share tea, and play Jenga.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 367





	like a tower ready to fall

Nicky wakes suddenly, out of a dead sleep.

It takes him only seconds to catalogue his surroundings: peeling plaster walls, an antique bronze lamp, the window with musty curtains drawn. They are in Poland, at the Krakow safehouse, and Nicky’s breath slows in his chest even though his body stays tense. They are here for two weeks, he remembers, a stopover between jobs; Nile and Andy are down the hall, in the big bedroom with two beds. Joe is tucked up behind him, his nose pressed to the back of Nicky’s neck, arm slung over Nicky’s waist. His breathing is even and slow.

Nicky wants to go back to sleep. He wishes he could - it’s been a long week, a tiring week, and though Nicky knows he always looks tired, he thinks the bags under his eyes are deeper than normal. But he knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep. The image of his nightmare is burned on the back of his eyes, like an object you’ve been staring at too long. If Nicky shuts his eyes, he sees it again. The coffin - corrugated, rusty metal at the bottom of the ocean, the freezing water and the man inside of it, screaming, sobbing, begging _Nicky, please, please help me, Nicolo -_

Carefully, Nicky lifts Joe’s arm from his waist and slips out of bed. Joe has always slept deep when Nicky is around - when they are in a safe place, sometimes he will sleep for twelve or fourteen hours, only roused by the smell of coffee or Nicky’s cock. Now, Nicky hesitates for just a moment on the edge of the mattress, his hand flitting over Joe’s face - but Joe is sleeping peacefully, and Nicky doesn’t want to wake him. He pulls away before he makes contact.

Downstairs, there’s a light on in the kitchen. Nicky wishes he were surprised, but it seems Nile has been up more nights than he has lately. When he finds her, she’s making tea.

She smiles when she sees him. “Want some?”

“Chamomile?” Nicky guesses, and Nile nods. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Nile.”

“No problem,” Nile says, pouring her extra water into a second mug. She always boils extra when she makes tea. Either she has a second-sense for knowing when he’s awake, or she does it just in case. It was one of the first endearing things Nicky had learned about her, after Merrick. She drops a teabag in his mug and passes it to him; the warmth is pleasant, and he takes a sip of the hot water even though it doesn’t taste like anything just yet.

“Joe’s snoring keeping you awake?” Nile asks, blowing on her own mug. 

Nicky smiles. “Joe would say he doesn’t snore,” he points out, but Nile just snorts.

“Man, we slept in the same room all week in Belgrade. You and I both know that’s not true.”

Nicky tilts his head. “Just imagine nine hundred years of it,” he says, and Nile laughs. Nicky takes another sip of his tea. “But no. I got used to Joe’s snoring after the first few decades. No, I was woken by unpleasant dreams.”

The mood of the room shifts. Nicky has made no secret of his sleepless nights, but he has not spoken so openly about them to Nile yet, either. He had not wanted to plague her, early on - with everything happening, with Merrick, with her family and her own nightmares. But of course he can’t hide from her forever, and he doesn’t want to. Closing himself and Joe off from the others, making themselves a separate and sometimes distant unit, clearly hadn’t worked well for them before.

“Yeah, I get that,” Nile says. She holds her mug in two hands, up to her face so the steam drifts over her cheeks. “It’s the same here. I’m -“ She shakes her head. “Every night, I wait for them to get better, and every night, they don’t.”

Nicky doesn’t know which nightmares she’s speaking of - if she’s talking about Quynh, or something else Nicky is not privy to. He reaches out and rests his hand on Nile’s shoulder. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier,” he says, “but I think that would be a lie. Still, we are here for you. Should you ever need to talk about it. Any time of day or night.”

“Thanks,” Nile says. “You too, you know. I mean. If you don’t want to wake Joe.”

Nicky is swept with a wave of affection for her so strong it almost swallows him. She is such a sweet girl. He had known, from the beginning, that she would be good for the team. So like Andy, except where she is like Joe and Quynh and Booker, and then all the parts of her that are hers and hers alone. Like her obsession with music. Always dancing, her headphones in on every run. None of them have ever loved music like she does.

“I appreciate that, Nile,” Nicky says, “Though I doubt an earthquake could wake him now.”

Nile quirks an eyebrow. “Deep sleeper?”

“Unless I shake him awake,” Nicky says dryly, and Nile smiles.

“Well,” she says, “Do you think he’d sleep through a game of Jenga?”

-

“ _Cazzo_!” Nicky hisses, when, for the third time in a row, he picks the wrong Jenga block to pull and sends the tower tumbling down. “What is wrong with this wretched tower?”

Across from him, Nile is giggling quietly, hands pressed to her stomach. They’re cross-legged on the floor, the Jenga tower - or its remnants - spread out on the coffee table in front of them. “It’s really not that hard, man.”

“It is a wretched game,” Nicky insists, even as he starts squaring groups of blocks together to rebuild the tower. “It was designed to fail. There is no structural integrity.”

“Well, yeah,” Nile agrees. “It’s Jenga.”

“What’s Jenga?” The voice comes from behind Nicky; he turns, already knowing that he’ll find Joe squinting blearily in the doorway, sweatshirt rucked up as he scratches his stomach. It’s Nicky’s sweatshirt, probably picked up from the floor when he woke and wanted to come investigate the noise. Beside it, he wears only boxers and a single, thick red sock.

Nicky’s heart is doing a strange, serpentine twist in his chest.

“It’s a wretched game,” he says. “Created by a Brit. Of course.”

“Of course,” Joe agrees, wandering over.

“Sorry we woke you,” Nile offers, as Joe pauses to peer down at the climbing Jenga tower. “Nicky said you were a deep sleeper.”

“Hmm, Nicky overestimates me,” Joe says, “But it is all for the best. The bed was getting cold.” And he sits down, knees folded, right in Nicky’s lap.

“He slept through an actual bomb once,” Nicky comments as he adjusts Joe in his lap. Their knees bump together, Joe’s cold ankles brushing over Nicky’s thighs, but eventually, they settle. Nicky turns to Nile. “We were in London, during the Blitz. A bomb fell right in the backyard, and Joe didn’t so much as twitch.”

“I hadn’t slept in a long time,” Joe defends himself. He has his head resting on Nicky’s shoulder, Nicky’s arm around his waist. His curly hair brushes against Nicky’s neck, soft as always. “Three days straight. I think I can be excused.”

Nicky hums. “Perhaps.” He’s just about finished building the Jenga tower one-handed when he looks up to Nile, and sees she’s watching them, expression strange.“Nile?”

The look is gone as soon as he’d noticed it, replaced by an easy smile. “You really want to go again? You have to know I’ll just beat you.”

“I have my good luck charm this time,” Nicky says, squeezing his hand on Joe’s hip. “Let’s play.”

Of course Nicky loses spectacularly, even faster than before. He’s reluctant to let go of Joe, and so he tries to tug at the tiles one-handed; they only make it four rounds before he gets too enthusiastic and sets the tower tumbling. At that point, Nile declares him too uncoordinated to play anymore, and pulls out a pack of cards instead. They play War for far too many hands, until both of their mugs are empty and Nile is drooping in her seat.

“Perhaps it is time for bed,” Nicky suggests, and Nile sighs and agrees. Nicky watches as she stumbles off to bed, then waits until he hears the door to her and Andy’s shared bedroom click open and closed; then he says, “She’s gone.”

Joe’s eyes flicker open. He’s been asleep on and off for most of their game, his head a comforting weight on Nicky’s shoulder. “It was a bad one tonight, wasn’t it,” he says.

It isn’t quite a question. Still, Nicky nods, tightening his grip on Joe in his arms. He tilts his head back against the couch, closing his eyes. “It was you,” Nicky admits.

“Down -“

“Yes.”

Joe hums. He has one hand on the nape of Nicky’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long; Nicky will probably need a haircut, soon. “You’ve been having them more recently,” Joe notes. “Do you think it’s anything specific?”

Nicky shrugs. “It could be anything. Andy. Nile. Merrick.” He rubs his thumb against Joe’s hip. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right and you’re wrong,” Joe says. “You’re wrong, because your pain always matters, and I’ll do anything I can to stop it. You’re right, because it won’t last, so long as I am here with you. And I _am_ here with you.” He nuzzles forward, brushing his nose against the soft skin of Nicky’s neck. “But you must wake me next time, Nicolo. So I can be with you. I don’t care what time it is.”

“Yusuf -“

“Please,” Joe says. “I hate to think of you in pain like this, alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Nicky argues half-heartedly, “I was with Nile. And you were just upstairs.”

“It might as well be worlds away if I cannot touch you. Please, Nicky.”

Nicky sighs, but tilts his head down so he can press a kiss to the crown of Joe’s head. He takes a moment to rub his cheek against the curls there, admire the perfect whorl of Joe’s ear. “I promise,” he says, and Joe hums, satisfied.

“Good. Ah, Nicolo, my martyr. Why did I have to fall in love with a Catholic, hmm? All that guilt!”

Nicky huffs, eyes falling closed again. “I suppose you were just lucky.”

Joe’s humor falls away as quickly as it had come; when he speaks, he is utterly sincere. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I am lucky.”

For a long moment, neither of them speak or move. Nicky tightens his grip on Joe, and Joe tightens his grip on Nicky in turn. The room around them is dark aside from the single lamp in the corner, which is the same hue and brightness as firelight. Nicky can almost imagine, with his eyes closed, that it is those first years again - he and Joe camping under the stars, huddling for warmth in front of the fire, Nicky’s dagger in easy reach. It is more romantic in his memory, Nicky knows, but still, he can’t help but be nostalgic about it now, with Joe here, safe and warm in Nicky’s arms.

“We should go to bed,” Joe mumbles eventually. He’s already half-asleep, but so is Nicky. 

“In a minute,” Nicky murmurs, “I just want to hold you another minute.”

In the end, don’t make it to bed. By the time their minute is up, they’ve both fallen asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at joeandnicky.tumblr.com
> 
> also, for those wondering, the Jenga game was, indeed, created and popularized by a Brit; I am not sure if there was anything particularly objectionable about the inventor in particular, but I think, given their experiences in England (Merrick; Quynh), Joe and Nicky would be justified in hating Brits in general. also, I imagine they aren't a huge fan of colonizers. sorry, British people.


End file.
